


Take Me To Church

by nesrynfaliq



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, That's literally all this is, acomaf, fluff and smut with a bit of feeling, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nesrynfaliq/pseuds/nesrynfaliq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azriel/Mor - Modern day AU, established relationship. Azriel returns from a long trip away for work and he and Mor properly celebrate his return with a mountain of pancakes and a lot of sex. Fluff and smut and a little bit of feeling. </p>
<p>Pleasure shivers through her and her hands clench desperately on thin air, wanting to fist themselves in the sheets, in his hair, in anything that might anchor her to this world. Sensing her need he slides his hands up a few inches, lacing their fingers together and he allows her to squeeze them tightly to let him know how good this feels as he pushes her further and further, smiling against her skin when she whimpers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Church

 The smell of freshly made coffee wafting towards her is what finally wakes Mor. Blinking blearily through the haze of drowsiness that clings to her like a thick cloud of smoke and sharply protest the light filtering into the room around her, urging her to tug the covers back over her head and sink back into sleep, she searches for the source of the enticing scent.

She locates it without too much effort, spotting a large, steaming ‘Sleeping Beauty’ mug perched on the bedside table level with her eyes. Finding a sleepy smile from somewhere she pushes herself upright with difficulty, squirming and struggling against the sheets, then reaches through the dense avalanche of covers to grasp the cup, holding it between her hands to warm them as she takes a few fortifying sips and gradually begins to come to.

Once she’s awake enough to trust her legs not to sending her careening into the nearest wall the moment she stands and puts any weight on, them she pushes back the duvet and gingerly eases out of bed, wincing at the feeling of the cold floor on her toes.

Shivering and yawning, Mor scans the floor by her feet then grabs up his discarded shirt and shrugs it on over her bare skin. It drowns her, dropping down to her thighs with enough spare material to wrap fully around her slim form meaning she doesn’t bother fumbling with any of the buttons.

A smile tugs at her lips as she allows herself a moment to indulge in the lingering scent of him that clings to it and envelopes her like an embrace – sweat and leather and the faint, sweet hint of vanilla. Breathing it in deep she savours it, familiar, so achingly familiar and comforting but at the same time new and stimulating – like the relationship they’ve finally managed to tumble into together.

Still smiling Mor stumbles sleepily out of the bedroom and through the rest of the house until she reaches the kitchen, her bare feet making no sound on the smooth wooden floors. When she reaches it she pauses in the doorway, lounging easily against the frame, admiring the view over the rim of the coffee mug she’d swiped from her dresser before braving the frozen morning away from her cosy bed to find him.

Azriel stands over their cooker in only the long jogging trousers he’d worn to bed. His shirtless torso reveals his tanned, muscled back and the ebony tattoo etched into it. Even after months spent with him she still lets her eyes linger on the masterpiece painted into his skin. The wings stretch from his broad shoulders and end at the small of his back, shaped like a dragon’s, only the outline and ridges with a little detailing have been rendered, all done in black ink – but sometimes, when the light catches them the right way, she could almost swear they were real.

Peeling herself from the door she abandons her coffee on the breakfast table halfway to him, unable to stand apart from him a moment longer, needing to go to him, to hold him in her arms – hers, _hers_.

Reaching him she wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face in the elegant tattoo and smiling into the warmth of his skin. Peering around him she notices the fresh pancake batter in the bowl in front of him that he’s mixing with practiced ease, the movements rocking gently through her as she clings to him, eyes drifting to the pan he’s warming and she hums in approval, letting the sound vibrate through him too.

She can picture the smile on his lips as he picks up the bowl and pours some of the mix into the pan. A faint whine of longing comes from her as it begins to cook and the smell of it reaches her. Turning slowly enough to give her time to release him and avoid being jolted by the motion he looks down at her.

Gently stroking back her hair he presses a soft, welcoming kiss to her forehead, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm,” is the only response he gets, muffled due to the fact it comes out against his chest which she’s happily nuzzling into, her arms looped around him once more as she cuddles into his warmth.

He smiles faintly at her lack of coherency and at her affection and tenderly kisses the top of her head before removing himself deftly from her arms in order to swipe a spatula off of the nearby counter to flip his pancakes.

Floating back to the cooker she watches, standing on tiptoe to enable her to hook her chin over his shoulder and look down at the golden pancake he’s making, “That smells great,” she moans against his neck, wrapping her arms around his bare chest again and resting her head in the valley between his shoulder blades, “Don’t bother with a plate,” she mumbles against his skin, “Just tip them straight into my mouth.”

The laugh that huffs from him at that travels through her too, making her lift up and down with him as his chest expands.

“That was a lot of words for this time in the morning,” he rumbles back, no small amount of amusement coating his words; “You found your coffee?”

Without removing her face from his back she reaches round blindly and pinches his arm – punishment for the implied slight, then she tenderly kisses his spine, in between his wings – a thank you for the coffee he’d provided to help her wake up.

Closing her eyes and breathing him in she shifts a little nearer as she says, vice quieter and far more serious, “Do you have to work today?”

He stiffens at the question, at whatever it brings up for him, the flinch almost imperceptible but it’s enough for her to sense it and know, know that something happened, something that’s still bothering him, something he couldn’t leave behind, something that may haunt him for a while yet, if he’s been unable to brush it off and brought it home.

“No,” he says, his voice low now and steady despite the tension she feels rippling through him, “I should have a lot of time at home after that last mission.”

That last mission. Something that had sent him to a place known only as the Prison, one that he couldn’t talk to her about and hadn’t been able to call home to her once while he’d been on. He had come back last night while she had been asleep and nestled in beside her. She had clung to him, kissing every inch of him in welcome for a long hour before she had dropped off to sleep again in his arms.

 She knew he hadn’t slept through the night. But he wasn’t ready t talk about it yet, she knew him and she knew he needed time to process it himself and she would try and make him speak to her until he was ready, refusing to push him.

Instead she smiles, tone lightening as she asks playfully, “So, I get to keep you all to myself all day?”

He turns his head, glancing down at her over his shoulder so she can see the warm smile that she’s inspired in him again as he nods in confirmation. Her grin is nothing short of radiant as she hums in contentment again and nuzzles into him.

“Good,” she says briskly, giving him a gentle squeeze, “Because I have a lot of things planned for us to do together now you’re all mine again.”

Tipping the finished pancake out onto a waiting plate he turns to face her fully this time, eyes twinkling with the light she always seems to be able to kindle in them as he raises an enquiring eyebrow at her, inviting her to share these plans with him.

Stepping in until her body is pressed flush against his – nothing but his shirt separating them – she drapes her arms around his neck, “First,” she declares, her voice bright and bold, “We’re going to eat our way through a mountain of delicious pancakes,” his smile broadens, his eyes soft and warm, tempered by the kind of love only she is privileged to see in them, “Then...” She stands on her toes, slowly threading her fingers through his dark hair and kisses him deeply.

He drops whatever he’d been holding back down onto the counter so he can wrap his arms around her and hold her close, his fingers digging into her thick blonde hair as he kisses her back. A faint moan spills into his mouth as he gently brushes his tongue against hers and she shivers against him.

He presses his brow to hers when they draw away, “I like these plans,” he rumbles, his voice rich and dark and aching with promise.

“Me too,” she replies, flashing him another of her wild, wicked grins she knows he loves.

Then she pokes imperiously at his side, “Pancakes first,” she reminds him bossily and another little laugh huffs from him as he allows her to shoo him back to the stove to oblige her.

Despite her insistence that Az focus on bringing their pancake mountain to life, Mor continues to hover close to him, nuzzling against him whenever he stands still long enough to allow her to do so. He had been gone for nearly three weeks this time, something Rhys and Cassian had gotten an earful about whenever they had called or visited, and she had missed him badly. Having him back now...It’s impossible to have enough of him and she attaches herself to him as such.

After nearly stepping on Mor yet again having turned to snatch up the chocolate and berries he always adds to her pancakes, Az’s near limitless patience eventually finds its wall. With a small huff he gently scoops her up into his arms, causing her to squeal slightly in surprise at the gesture, then places her down on the counter by the stove with a pleased little nod.

A wolfish smile spreading across her lips she wraps an arm around him as he makes to move back to the cooker and draws him back to her with seductive ease. Her finger slide slowly through his hair as she leans forward then kisses him, her lips parting in hungry invitation for his tongue which he answers gladly.

His body melts into hers as he kisses her back, one of his rough, scarred hands sliding around her, settling at the base of her spine and urging her against him, the other cups her cheek and shapes her movements to him as he opens his mouth, feeling her tongue press enquiringly against his lips, and lets his fingers wander through her hair.

Drawing away a little he affectionately rubs his nose against her neck then smiles. Moaning faintly as he begins to kiss her instead she hooks her legs around his waist and tugs him closer, jolting him slightly against the counter and he bites gently at her skin. Her nails scrape slowly down the length of his spine when his lips graze a particularly sensitive spot on her neck that he knows drives her wild. A soft growl is brushed against her skin in response and his mouth descends on hers a moment later, hot and hungry.

Groaning softly into him she kisses him back, allowing him to slow them, making it tender and lazy and indulgent once more. He gently pulls away, rubbing noses with her as he murmurs, “Your pancakes are going to burn.”

“I don’t care,” she hisses, nuzzling at his neck again, her teeth scraping across his skin.

He just smiles, eyes twinkling knowingly as he peers down at her, “Yes you do.”

Tipping back her head she exhales loudly and dramatically then whines pitifully, “...Yes, I do. Save them,” she says then nudges him towards the pan again, all the while looking as though every step he takes away from her causes her a physical pain.

He dutifully flips her pancakes while she watches then pads back to her, allowing her to drape his arms around his neck again, legs hooking once more around his hips, “My hero,” she purrs, her voice rich and smooth, scotch blended with honey.

He laughs lightly onto her lips as he kisses her again.

Many kisses and several nearly burned pancakes later Mor hops down from the counter and accepts the plate that Azriel had insisted on – though he had also consented to feeding her occasional berries and pieces of chocolate in between kisses – and the two of them take their places opposite each other at the breakfast table where she scoops her coffee towards her again.

As they’re finishing up, Mor using her last piece of pancake to soak up as much syrup as possible before transferring it to her mouth with almost indecent enthusiasm, she finds him watching her steadily. Recognising the hungry gleam in his eyes she takes her time slowly licking her fingers clean one by one without ever breaking eye contact with him.

A muscle feathers in his jaw and he shifts slightly in his seat as his eyes drift deliberately downwards, drinking in her body, then flick back up to meet hers. His eyebrows lift slightly in response to the over-sized unbuttoned shirt she’d thrown on which now hangs open, showing him more than a little skin.

She reads the silent words evident in his gaze _you look good in my shirt._

The smile she tosses him is razor-edged and nothing short of feral – predatory and ravenous. She twitches the sleeves a little causing them to slide a few inches down her shoulders. _I look better in nothing at all_.

The way the corners of his mouth tug up by a fraction tells her he understands. His eyes bright and blazing he jerks his chin slightly at her, _Come here._  

Biting her lip she eases slowly to her feet, her movements fluid as silk rippling in a breeze and she makes sure he takes in every one of them, every inch of her bare legs as she straightens and prowls towards him with lethal grace. Bracing her hands possessively against his shoulders for balance she eases herself between him and the table – which he shoves back hard without taking his eyes from her, then she sinks down onto his lap, straddling him.

He rakes his eyes up her body with deliberate slowness, undoing her in his desire, until he meets her gaze again and a soft, warm smile only she ever sees lights his face. Melting into his body she cups his cheek in her hand and kisses him deeply, putting more heat into the kiss than the idle, lazy ones that had passed between them in the kitchen.

Gently, so gently, she rocks her hips against his until he groans, “Mor-“ he breathes onto her lips, his eyes closed, savouring the feeling of her soft, warmth against him once more.  

“I missed you,” she murmurs to him, lips sliding to graze his neck, her hips sliding down a little harder on him.

“Mor-“ he whispers, half a plea and half a prayer.

“Every day I missed you,” she says between kisses, settling into a comfortable rhythm that she can already feel starting to affect him.

 “I missed kissing you,” she gives him a brief taste of her tongue, sweet from the pancake’s syrup.

 “I missed touching you,” her fingers wander lightly over his tattooed chest, tracing some of the faint scars she had watched heal, making him shiver.

 “I missed the feel of your body on mine,” she presses herself flush against him and his hand snaps up to tightly grip her waist, anchoring himself to her as he shudders in response to her.

 “ _Morrigan_ ,” he growls low and deep in his chest as she grinds against him and snarls,

 “I missed fucking you until you moaned my name like that-“

He surges to his feet, interrupting her, his arms wrapped tightly around her, cradling her to him and keeping her locked securely against him. She reaches back to clear the table, plates and glasses be damned she wants, _needs_ him now.

 But Azriel braces her against him, coaxing her legs to wrap around his waist, and carries her steadily to their bedroom with agonizing composure, as though he’s not just as desperate as she is, as though she can’t feel him longing to tear his shirt from her and leave them skin to skin.

When they finally reach their room however he throws her down onto the bed, laughing at his loss of control, at the simple joy of being with him again as he climbs on top of her. Carefully, taking his time, as though unwrapping a gift he eases the shirt from her, sliding the sleeves from her shoulders and letting it splay open to reveal her to him.

 Running his tongue along his lips as he takes her in as he eases the shirt away from her, tossing it again on the floor and leaves her lying beneath him in nothing but a little pair of light, loose underwear. He lets his finger hook under the hem just enough to lift it, to tease her, then he withdraws.

_Soon_ his eyes promise as he straddles her and looks down at her, making no effort to disguise the hunger in his eyes.

His hands begin at her hips, settling on either side and slide slowly, so slowly, up her body, hugging every curve, caressing every contour of her, as though he’s determined to leave to part of her untouched, as though he can’t bear to leave a single inch of her ignorant of his worship.

He continues his slow and steady progress up her body until she’s panting beneath him at the feel of him, at the strain of self-control she can feel in him as he holds himself back from her, savouring every second of this until his scarred hands are easing along her arms, his eyes focused wholly on hers throughout, inviting her in before he devours her.

Finally, he stops at her wrists which he pins down gently but firmly on either side of her head with a small smile that’s laced with so much promise that she shivers, feeling the heat that starts to build between her legs in anticipation of what’s to come.

Sinking down he holds his body just above hers – close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from his skin but she can’t touch him, can’t pull him down onto her the way every fibre of her being demands, can’t have them crash together and relieve the tension that’s swelling between them, that magnetic pull that’s always seemed to exist between them now wound to such a pitch that it’s near unbearable and she doesn’t know where he finds the strength to resist it.  

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, his breath hot on her lips, stealing the air from her until her lungs feel empty, until it feels like she’s drowning in him, in wanting him, in needing him.

Then he kisses her, kisses her with such heartbreaking gentleness that something inside her splinters then breaks only to be repaired the moment he slides his tongue into her mouth and lets his hips nudge against hers, healing every crack and flaw within her battered heart.

The moan that bursts from her when he pulls away makes a shiver tremble through him. But he clings to his composure and continues to pin her down to prevent her taking what she needs from him. He’s going to make this slow. He’s going to take his sweet time with her. He’s going to ruin her so completely that when he’s finally finished with her she’ll be lucky if she remembers her own name – lucky if she remembers anything but _him_ – those deep hazel eyes are telling her so.

She needs it. Now.

“Every day I missed you,” he purrs, his voice rich and low and thrumming with desire for her, repeating her words back to her so she knows just what’s to come, what this is going to build to.

“I missed kissing you,” he breathes to her, just the heat of his breath on her skin and the sound of his voice caressing her is enough to make her whole body quiver with anticipation. And when his lips press against her neck she can’t control the soft moan that escapes her. His hips shift deftly against hers, tormenting her the way she tormented him and he sucks slowly on her skin, finding the most sensitive spots on instinct and working them until the room feels airless and she can’t remember how to breathe and doesn’t care.

Pleasure shivers through her and her hands clench desperately on thin air, wanting to fist themselves in the sheets, in his hair, in anything that might anchor her to this world. Sensing her need he slides his hands up a few inches, lacing their fingers together and he allows her to squeeze them tightly to let him know how good this feels as he pushes her further and further, smiling against her skin when she whimpers.

Drawing away he gives her a heartbeat to breathe then he purrs, “I missed touching you.”

His hands skim slightly over the surface of her already sweat-slick skin and settle just beneath her breasts. His thumbs rise up to stroke her nipples until they harden beneath his gentle encouragement and she writhes helplessly against him. His lips ease back to her neck and she snaps her eyes closed, her body arching against his as he continues, so in control of himself and so easily able to make her lose every shred of hers that she could hate him for it if it didn’t feel so damn good.

Pausing again he presses a tender kiss to her lips then murmurs, the trace of a growl, the only sign of how tight a leash his control is on, how taut it’s stretched, enters his next words, his next promise, “I missed the feel of your body on mine.”

The anticipation, the sheer anticipation has her choking out, “Azriel,” through the muffling fist she’s jammed into her mouth even before he lays his body down against hers, letting them connect at last.

He surrounds her, envelopes her, _consumes_ her. And it’s still not enough.

His lips find hers and there’s nothing but endless, insatiable hunger in her when she returns the kiss. Her eyes flutter closed as his mouth moves again to her neck but this time he lingers only for a moment before he descends down her body. Teeth scraping lightly over her collarbone he finds his way to her breasts again and kisses and bites gently until her chest is heaving and she can’t contain the curses that snap from her throat.

Her body arches against his demanding, begging, _more, more, more,_ as his lips travel to her stomach and navel. His only response to her desperation is to patiently push her down onto the bed again with a small smile.

At last he reaches the delicate little lace panties she has on and his finger hooks gently under the hem once again, softly caressing the skin beneath. He pauses. And waits. Waits until she manages to meet the eyes that are waiting for her and when she sees the hunger and desire for her in them she can’t suppress the whine that builds in her throat.

“I missed...” he murmurs, his voice a rich caress that stimulates her as surely as his kisses and touch. And she knows, damn him, she knows what comes next, what she said in the kitchen while she teased him, what he wants to do to her now and she can’t stand it.

“Please,” she pants, throat tight and chest heaving.

He eases her underwear slowly down her legs and it’s all she can do to get out, “ _Please_ Azriel, please.”

The smile he gives her sends a whisper through her blood that speaks with his voice, _you know I like it when you beg me for it._

Then his lips press between her legs and the faintest brush of his tongue against her nearly finishes her as something shatters in her at the feeling of him finally, _finally_ giving in to her and giving her what she needs, what she’s been dying for since she settled herself into his lap and felt him harden beneath her.

She was already wet for him after all of his teasing and she vaguely registers the growl of satisfaction at that before he begins to gently suck the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Then she’s aware of nothing but the steady stroking of his tongue, and the sharp pinch of nails on her skin as he tightly grips her hips in his hands, the heat of his mouth on her, his kiss, his touch, his hunger, him, him, _him._

She climaxes in minutes with a cracked cry of pleasure, tipping back her head and loosing his name to the blank heavens that hover behind her eyelids as she does so. His only response is to pull her harder against his mouth with a rough snarl of approval.

“Azriel,” she whispers, unable to get enough air into her longs to shout as she wants to, “Az, Az, Az, _Az.”_

The only word she has – his name – the only word she needs – plea and curse and prayer and damning all at once. Her hips arch against his mouth and her hand fists itself in his hair for support as he slides his fingers inside her and she peaks again after only a few deft strokes with a wordless cry on her lips. She collapses down onto the sheets and tugs feebly on his hair to make him stop when his lips continue to murmur against her, unable to take it anymore.

“Good girl,” he purrs lightly, his lips mouthing gently against her skin, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as she pants and struggles to come down from the high that he’s praising her for, making it all the harder to ground herself, as he well knows.

 He pulls himself up to lie alongside her, his fingers tangling gently through her sweaty hair, “Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, nibbling gently on her earlobe when she opens her eyes again, still panting. His voice deepens, a roughness to it that immediately strips away what little composure she’d managed to regain as he whispers, so intimately they might be the only two beings left in the world, “How beautiful you look when you come for me like that?”

A low snarl ripples through her at that and at the glint in his eyes that promises that he’s not done with her yet. She grabs him and pulls him to her, her mouth claiming his in a hard, desperate kiss that shatters the thin veil of calm that had settled over her in the wake of her climax. The pleasure that’s already pulsed through her body doesn’t feel like a balm to her need for him but instead a taste, a taste that she longs to drown in until she’s no longer aware of anything but it.

She wants more. She wants him wrapped around her. She wants him inside her. She wants him to make her moan. She wants to lose herself in him until neither of them can tell where she ends and he begins – or if they ever end or begin at all – until they’re on being  and she can die content with him that way knowing that she’ll never have to be parted from him again.

“I need you,” she whispers, her words frantic as she goes on, “Az, I need you, I need you, I need-“ he kisses her, long and slow and deep, swallowing her urgent pleas.

“Shh,” he breathes, holding himself over her, his eyes tender, never leaving hers as she tugs the last of his clothes from him, both now completely naked before the other.

 He strokes back her hair and kisses her again, gentle and controlled, tongue pressing gently against hers, savouring her, savouring every second spent with her, “I’m here. You have me,” he murmurs, voice rough yet gentle all at once – like the scarred hands that he slips between her legs once more.

His next words are almost lost in her gasp, “I’m yours.” He whispers that pledge against her lips as he kisses her again, cupping her cheek as he carefully positions himself over her.

“You’re mine,” she breathes back to him, mirroring him and holding his face in her hand which he then covers with his own while the other seeks out the fingers that are clenched in the sheets in anticipation and coaxes her to release her grip on her cotton anchor to twine her fingers through his instead as she breathes, “I’m yours.”

The smile on his face transforms it, the sculpted lines of his features softening just for her. He enters her in a single, fluid motion groaning, “You’re mine,” against her lips, “Mine,” he says again, this time onto her neck, and again as he begins to move into her, and again as she moans, the sound faint and hoarse and desperate.

He sets up a gentle, even rhythm for her, their lips meeting and tangling as their bodies join. It’s only now, now that his lips are on hers; now that his body presses against hers and reduces the world to this bed, this moment, this heat between their sweat-slick skin, the only thing that separates them; now that he’s inside her again and at last she feels complete and settled and _home_ , that it hits her just how much she’d missed him.

Wrapping her arms around him she pulls him closer needing _more_ : more of him, more of this, more of them, sure that she could spend an eternity in his arms and it wouldn’t be enough, it would never be enough. But he seems to understand her need from the way her hand slides round behind his head and her fingers ease through his hair and pull hopelessly and he fills that need with his own, increasing his pace, plunging more deeply into her with every stroke, urging a faint, cracked whisper of breath from her each time he does so.

His eyes snap closed and he reaches out blindly, bracing a hand on the headboard behind him, needing to anchor himself to something. He gasps with every movement into her and the look on his face, the way he loses all control with her like this, the vulnerability she finds when they’re alone between the sheets that no-one else ever sees wrecks her.

“I love you,” she gasps to him and he looks down at her, awe and wonder blazing in his hazel eyes as she says those words again, a pledge, a promise, the greatest truth she has to offer, “I love you, Azriel.”

He kisses her. He kisses her so hard she forgets where she is, forget that a world exists beyond them, beyond their kiss and their entwined bodies and the words that spill from his lips and carry her into an oblivion with him that contains only them, “I love you too, Morrigan.”

She smiles against his lips as they descend to kiss her again. And as pleasure radiates through her and she grabs him to her and pulls him in closer to her she realises that she never want this to end.

 If it were possible she would spend countless eternities right here in this moment with him where she feels save and loved and wanted in the tender home she makes in his arms.

 If it were possible she would fuse their souls together; bind them eternally in such a way that not even death could find them alone and without each other.

If it were possible she would live always as she is now, complete and whole, the two of them joined so completely that it’s as though they’re one – one body, one heart, one being; one existence.

 They move together on instinct, his question already meeting her answer before either is fully formed, unconscious and effortless as breathing as the heartbeats that pound in sync beneath their caging ribs, pounding harder with every moment as though desperate break free of their chests to reach one another.

Pleasure swells in her core, a storm about to break and shatter the horizon, as she lifts her hips to meet every thrust. “Az, Az, please-“ she breaks off, voice splintering in her urgency but he kisses her again, cradling her face in his rough hands.

_I know, I know, I know_. The words crash into her as he gives her exactly what she needs, what she wanted to beg him for but couldn’t find the words to, slipping his fingers between her legs once more and she moans and clings to him. Her nails rake down his spine and he snarls uncontrollably and bucks his hips against hers, slamming in to her as deeply as he can and she gasps out his name in a stolen tongue of breath, her eyes clamping shut, her nails biting into him as she clutches to him for support.

“Mor,” he whispers, her name pressed into her skin again and again, a tattoo that burns and sings in her blood with his voice and undoes something inside her. It splinters through her, bursting along every fissure and fracture in her soul and rips her apart along those fragile seams. And she burns with light and life and _him_ as he anchors her to him in the darkness where their demons swim unrestricted through their sins and dare to dance when they meet. And she knows as she looks into his eyes that as long as she has him she’ll never be alone.

“Mor,” he groans, his hand fisting desperately in her hair, “ _Mor.”_

Wrapping her arms around him as he buries his lips at her neck at that spot that makes her moan his name again she answered his unasked question, understands what he needs and gives it to him, “Yes,” she gasps to him, tugging his hair and pulling him closer, “Yes. Yes.”

Panting he slams into her again, fingers pulling on her hair and climaxes inside her rasping, “ _Morrigan_ ,” in her ear as he does so.

She follows him a moment later, a cracked word that might have been his name bursting from her as she shatters around him again.

His hands cup her face and he kisses her, long and deep and tender then settles beside her, his thumbs gently stroking her cheek, “I love you,” he whispers, voice ragged but so sincere it makes her breath catch and her heart flutter.

Leaning in she brushes her lips tenderly against his, “I love you too, Az,” she murmurs, rubbing noses with him.

A part of her has always loved him, she thinks. All those years they spent together she loved him, loved being with him, loved him so fiercely she would have done anything to protect him or make him smile. But here and now, looking into his eyes as she whispers those words she knows, knows without a shadow of a doubt that she would do anything for him, walk back through the darkest hells she’s already survived or sell the shredded remains of her soul for him if that was what it took. And she knows that he would do no less for her.

Friends. Lovers. Partners. _Equals_. From now until whatever end comes to claim them both to carry them to whatever waits beyond this world. Where they’d find each other again.

He smiles and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than he needs to. Then he turns over onto his side and allows her to nestle in against his back, tangling their bare legs together. Her fingers absently trace the elegant black lines of his tattoo as she nuzzles against him and mumbles, “I’m not getting out of this bed again for the rest of the day.”

She loops her arms around his chest and draws him in against her, their bodies fitting so perfectly together that sometimes she could swear something shaped them with this intention – of fitting so seamlessly together they feel like one complete being.

Growling in his ear she adds almost threateningly, as though daring him to leave her, “And neither are you,” she informs him flatly.

A soft laugh huffs through him and he reaches over his shoulder and takes her hand in his, pressing his lips to it before he twines their fingers together, clearly more than happy to accept the fate she’s assigned to him. She hums contentedly as she snuggles against him, closing her eyes and burrowing in to him, breathing him in, savouring this feeling that surrounds her – the feeling of being truly home.

****

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :) first time trying smut for these two, I hope it went okay?


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